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"And quite honestly, I've had enough trouble for a lifetime," Harry said, turning his back on the dozens of headmasters. They still beamed and some even gave courteous golf claps in celebration, but Hermione was glad to see her friend put it all behind him.
They left Dumbledore's office in silence. Hermione's mind, usually the picture of organized thought, was far too troubled to put into words all she was feeling. What remained were only the most basic of thoughts. Voldemort was dead. Harry wasn't. Harry was the last horcrux. Snape had been on their side the whole time (if for odd reasons, and his loyalty didn't outweigh his cruelty). Fred was dead. Lupin and Tonks were dead. The list went on and on, and would probably lengthen come morning.
Passing by a shattered window, she realized that morning had already arrived. But what was time when Hogwarts was in shambles and she'd never hear Fred Weasley's laughter again? As if she'd spoken aloud, Ron's hand slipped into hers as they made their way to Gryffindor tower.
Right. She'd forgotten some other important facts. Ron Weasley was still alive. And she had kissed him. And he had kissed her back.
That was all the clarity she could find in her fogged up brain. She would have time later to analyze every detail of it, and wonder if Ron really, really liked her that way.
Gryffindor tower was a mess too, the Fat Lady missing and the portrait hung open. They left it that way; Hermione didn't care if a death eater slept in the next bed over, as long as she was sleeping.
As they stepped through the portrait hole, she found herself stumbling into Ron. He caught her, the gracious gent, and held her up as they moved toward the stairs. Some part of her brain catalogued this fact as proof that he did like her after all. Somehow she couldn't turn that nonsense off.
Ron careened to a halt as they reached the stairs. Hermione let out a gentle oof as she nearly fell over again. Her injuries were starting to appear. Harry stopped too, with his eyebrows all scrunched up in confusion.
Hermione wondered for a moment if Ron was going to ask where she was sleeping. She really hoped he wouldn't. The only place she wanted to be was beside him.
"We'll be up in a minute, Harry," Ron said, his ears already turning pink.
"What are you—oh." His gaze dropped to their joined hands. Harry sighed, which Hermione thought was a bit dramatic. "Well, be quick about it. And please, please work it out. The last seven years have been hell and I won't stand for another minute of it. Normal people don't go on like—"
"Got it," Ron interrupted, giving Harry's shoulder a weak shove. "We'll be fine."
"If I hear any screaming, I'll—"
"Feel free to kill us in your sleep. Now just go already."
"Right. Good luck," Harry said with a weak grin and an uncharacteristic thumbs up. He finally went up the stairs, a slow crawl that befit a man who'd quite literally walked away from death.
"Thought he'd never leave," Ron sighed. "Couldn't even have our first kiss with that bloke hanging around, could we?" His ears turned even redder as he said it.
Hermione felt her cheeks pink as well. Their first kiss.
“Feels odd doesn’t it?”
“Not when you’ve been waiting for it to happen for years,” Ron said, steering her toward a mercifully clean couch. They fell into it and for a moment Hermione forgot all about the battle. It was just another day at Hogwarts, studying in the common room, escaping Harry’s drama and chastising Ron.
“Maybe if you’d stopped waiting…”
“Well, excuse me for trying to be gentlemanly about it, else I’d have snogged you ages ago.”
Hermione snorted, “Really? And when have you ever been gentlemanly?”
Ron’s jaw dropped in mock offense, “All bloody year, if you don’t count when I had a horcrux hanging ‘round my neck!”
She wasn’t sure what made her work it out finally. Ron mentioning the horcrux, realizing there was no real anger to their argument, or maybe her mind had figured it out minutes ago and her thoughts were just now catching up.
“Except when I left,” Ron was mumbling.
Hermione shut him up with a gasp and clamped her other hand on his arm.
He immediately freaked out, “What! What is it?” His blue eyes grew wide. “Has the shock worn off already?”
“No! Ronald, there were two!”
He frowned. “Two what?”
She knew that didn’t make any sense, but her words were another ten steps behind her thoughts. Gathering the right words, she slid her other hand into his. “For almost a year, we had two horcruxes with us. The locket and Harry. And for six years before that—”
“Bloody hell.” Ron sat back into the couch. “We’ve been hanging around a horcrux for seven years. No wonder Harry’s a slimy git.” She watched the idea roll around his head like always. He stared off into the middle distance before meeting her eyes again.
“Do you think…” he paused and gulped. “Do you think that’s why we were always arguing? Never able to… you know.”
Hermione leaned into his side. “I suppose so. Although… I kind of like arguing with you.”
He laughed. “Same here. But think about it. Every summer I always felt… lighter, you know? I just thought it was not being stressed about school, but maybe it wasn’t. And those times without Harry, we never argued as much, did we?”
“No, we didn’t.” Hermione had always chalked that up to not wanting to waste any alone time with Ron. Last summer, she’d almost even confessed her feelings for him. Of course, she realized immediately how foolish that would’ve been. How on earth would they have defeated Voldemort if she and Ron were too busy snogging all the time?
Although, she wouldn’t have minded that reality either.
She sighed and leant her head against his shoulder, “Just think of all the time we’ve wasted…”
“Nah,” Ron said. “The best relationships are built upon friendships anyway.” He froze, realizing his word choice. “I mean… if that’s what we are now. Sort of forgot to ask.” He pulled one of his hands away to rub it nervously behind his neck.
Silence immediately descended upon the common room. Far away, she could hear the noise of people in the great hall, laughter, chatter, and sobs all collecting together in a mix of human emotion. The castle groaned. Glass clinked as someone magicked away debris.
In some ways, sitting in the common room felt like the strangest thing to happen all year. There was no one actively trying to kill them, no mysteries to solve, no wards to put up. It was just Ron and Hermione, holding hands, sitting close enough to feel each other’s heartbeat. To know they were alive, together and almost there. If only one of them could cough up their gryffindor courage and say the word.
Hermione would, but she couldn’t find the strength to say anything… romantic. And a small part of her wanted Ron to take the next step. She’d been the one to leap at him after all.
Ron shifted suddenly so he was facing her and took both her hands in his. It was the first time in hours that she’d gotten a proper look at him. His ginger hair was greasy and dusty, with a splotch of blood covering his right temple. There were holes in his shirt and scorch marks on his pants, but none of that mattered because he was here and he was alive .
Hermione shouldn’t have been surprised when she started to tear up but the realization was too much. A year ago, she had never thought their journey would end with all three of them living. Harry had the prophecy and too many enemies, Ron was far too brave and self-sacrificing and she herself had never been any good at defense against the dark arts. And yet, against all odds they were here and Ron and Hermione finally, finally had a chance.
The waterworks really began then, silent tears rolling down Hermione’s cheeks.
“Oh bugger,” Ron said, reaching up to swipe away a tear. “I haven’t even said anything yet. Or is this… everything catching up to you?”
Hermione shook her head with a strange half-giggle, half-sob. “I just can’t believe we’re having this conversation.” She sniffled again. “When I kissed you, I honestly thought our first kiss might also be our last.”
Ron tucked her into his arms then, his chest as warm as always, if a little smelly. She didn’t care though. They had their whole lives for less-smelly hugs.
When he pulled away, it was to look into her eyes with a sincerity that he almost always reserved for exams and Quidditch finals. “This is it for me, Hermione. I don’t want to waste any more time. Do you… Do you feel the same?”
“Of course I do. Always have.”
Ron smiled gently. “The weird part is I know you’re telling the truth. There’s no… insecurities jumping out. But maybe that’s ‘cause you launched yourself at me.”
Hermione laughed. “I didn’t launch myself, I saw an opportunity and I took it!”
“Right, and there wasn’t a chance beforehand when we were alone.”
“Well, we had a horcrux to destroy! And the chamber of secrets isn’t exactly the most romantic spot. Excuse me for not wanting to snog in front of a giant Basilisk—”
This time, Ron leaped forward. He captured her lips in the way she’d always wanted him to. Without a battle going on behind them or Harry complaining about timing, Hermione finally understood what it was to kiss Ron Weasley. He was forceful at first, but grew gentler as the minutes passed. His hand worked its way into her hair possessively, the other reaching around her waist. Hermione tugged at his shirt, drawing him closer, and then closer still.
She’d waited years for this moment. Not the first kiss, but the second. She always knew their first would be impulsive or surprising, given their history. But the second, that one was about commitment. It was assurance that Ron did love her, that she loved him.
They were interrupted by a crowd of students climbing through the portrait hole. Mostly Gryffindors, but a few friends from other houses tagged along, too weary to properly explore the tower. Nobody paid Hermione and Ron any mind, besides a barely-there nod from Demelza Robins.
Hermione didn’t realize she was looking for them till Ron spoke quietly. “We should go to bed before my family comes up… I don’t think I can deal with that right now.” Maybe that wasn’t very brave of him, or courteous, but Hermione didn’t have much thought for bravery right now. There were more important things.
She got up and tugged him by the hand until he was standing. They left the safety of the common room, Hermione glancing back once. Nostalgia rose quickly in her throat, bringing with it memories of wizard’s chess, blazing rows, nights by the fire, and so, so many dear moments of friendship.
Her thoughts echoed of fourth year. Everything would be different now.
Upon reaching the seventh year dorms they found Harry already passed out, glasses still on and wand in hand. Hermione placed the glasses neatly on his nightstand while Ron fixed his blankets. Harry may have been the Boy Who Lived twice now, but he still needed Ron and Hermione to take care of him, horcrux or not.
Ron got in his bed, shuffling under the blankets. Hermione stalled, unsure if she should sleep in the bed over or where she wanted to, curled in Ron’s arms. He answered for her as he scooted over to make room and lifted the blankets. “Might as well,” he murmured.
Hermione blushed and settled down beside him. They lay facing each other, fingers grazing until Hermione gave up and seized his hand. Even in the darkness, she could see his grin as he leaned forward and kissed her knuckles.
“Is it wrong to be deliriously happy right now?” Hermione whispered.
“I reckon Fred would want us to be happy. I mean, he’d also want us to mourn him with a party fit for Merlin, but killing Voldemort will have to do.”
Hermione giggled even though she didn’t ever want to think about mourning Fred Weasley.
“He’s the only one I ever told about liking you.” This whisper was quieter, a secret meant to disappear in the shadows.
She responded by scooting closer, slipping a leg between his and forcing him to wrap an arm around her waist.
It was the closest they’d been in a while, and where Hermione expected nerves, she found only comfort. The past seven years had been leading up to this, Voldemort gone, Ron and Hermione free to explore those feelings that never faded with time.
They were free.
“I think I’m in love with you, Ron Weasley,” Hermione breathed, sharing her own secrets.
“I think I’m in love with you, too, Hermione Granger…” He barely mumbled the words before succumbing to the steady breathing of sleep.
Hermione fell too, her sleep heavy, dreamless, and safe.